fountains? The way winds and widens in the valley;
up the hill it is straight and narrow, and few there be that
find it.”
His converse with the watchers and workers in the [1]
valley closes, and he makes his way into the streets of a
city made with hands.
Pausing at the threshold of a palatial dwelling, he
knocks and waits. The door is shut. He hears the [5]
sounds of festivity and mirth; youth, manhood, and age
gayly tread the gorgeously tapestried parlors, dancing-